


i believe the world is burning to the ground

by finkpishnets



Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Socialites - Freeform, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 15:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5095823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tonight’s about their image, <i>Bruce’s image</i>, and they’ll play along the way they always do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i believe the world is burning to the ground

**Author's Note:**

> Uploading some of my old drabbles that never made it onto ao3. This was for [don't call them sidekicks: a young justice ficathon](http://ivoryandgold.livejournal.com/46540.html).

There’s a redhead by the bar with her arm around Tim’s shoulders, fingers casually running through the hair at the nape of his neck, and Dick watches, amused, as Tim shakes her off with a self-deprecating smile and words that will make her forget she’s just been rejected; it’s an art form that Dick’s never quite managed to pick up, though that could be because he has a soft spot for redheads. 

Tim winds his way back through the crowd, smiling at the room in general whilst not catching anyone’s eye, and Dick’s impressed at how well he manages to work the people around him when he _knows_ he’d rather be back at the Manor with one of Kate’s latest crime novels and a pair of slippers. He’s an old man in an early-twenties body, and Dick would worry about him if he weren’t the sanest of them all.

The two of them don’t get much time together between the charity functions and galas and lectures, not like this, but there are people to talk to and reputations to uphold, and they can’t spend the entire night crowded together at a corner table of a popular club unless they want it splashed across tomorrow’s tabloids. _“Wayne Wards Shun Socialites.”_ Bruce would be far from impressed.

Later though, when they’re back at the Manor and somewhere past the point of tipsy, Dick will slide his lips down Tim’s throat as Tim shakes off his quiet demeanor and tells Dick all the things he wants him to do to him. They’ll construct shadows under their eyes and teeth marks against their skin, and in the morning they’ll complain about alcohol and parties and women whose names slip their tongues, and Alfred will pretend to believe them even as he goes about changing the sheets and folding Tim’s clothes back into his own drawers.

Tonight’s about their image, _Bruce’s image_ , and they’ll play along the way they always do, but later they’ll let this carefully constructed world crumble about them and add another brick to the one they’re creating on their own.


End file.
